The Saga of Tanya the Evil Volume 3

Copyright

The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 3
Carlo Zen
Translation by Emily Balistrieri Cover art by Shinobu Shinotsuki
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
YOJO SENKI Vol. 3 The Finest Hour ©Carlo Zen 2014
First published in Japan in 2014 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo,
through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC., Tokyo.
English translation © 2018 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of
copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to
produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a
theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use
material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the
publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Zen, Carlo, author.
| Shinotsuki, Shinobu, illustrator. | Balistrieri, Emily, translator. | Steinbach,
Kevin, translator.

Title: Saga of Tanya the evil / Carlo Zen ; illustration by Shinobu Shinotsuki ;
translation by Emily Balistrieri, Kevin Steinbach Other titles: Yōjo Senki.
English Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen ON, 2017–
Identifiers: LCCN 2017044721 | ISBN 9780316512442 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN
9780316512466 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316512480 (v. 3 : pbk.) Classification:
LCC PL878.E6 Y6513 2017 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017044721

ISBNs: 978-0-31651248-0 (paperback) 978-0-316-56057-3 (ebook)

E3-20180627-JV-PC



[chapter] I Open Sesame

MAY 24, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, ARKANSAS, UNIFIED STATES
In the gently streaming Arkansas sunlight, she raced over to her beloved
grandma and presented a bag of bright red apples.
“Hey, Grandma, where should I put these apples the neighbors gave us?”
“Dear me, Mary, more apples? Carlos’s wife must like you.”

Smiling serenely, the old woman slowly began to rise from her easy chair. Her
granddaughter was kind enough to offer a hand. Noticing her natural
consideration, the elderly woman thanked God the girl had been raised to be
kind and thoughtful.

The neighbors were proud of their harvest, and her granddaughter beamed
like the sun after receiving a bag. Though the girl was staying with family, this
was still a foreign country to her. Despite leaving her father behind to come live
in a new and unknown place, she had won over even the most difficult people
with that sunny smile.

She was a strong child, old enough that she wasn’t oblivious to the events
happening around her. She did everything she could to cheer up the whole
household. The old woman was proud of her for that but, by the same token,
found her circumstances so sad.

Thus, it was with mixed feelings that the grandmother eagerly stood and
endeavored to keep the mood light by suggesting they bake an apple pie
together. Her inability to do anything but worry about the miserable state of
the conflict only fueled her frustration.

If only this cruel war would just end… The old woman sighed discreetly so

Mary wouldn’t notice and slowly headed for the kitchen. Catching a glimpse of
her grieving daughter glued to the radio and newspaper in the sitting room,
Mary’s grandmother wiped tears from her eyes.

Ever since they had received notice about the death of her son-in-law Anson,
the Entente Alliance soldier who had come to ask for her daughter’s hand in
marriage, Mary’s mother had seemed listless, like her mind was elsewhere.

Anson had been a stubborn man, and the two of them had come to blows
more than once, but for some reason in the end, they got along just fine. Now,
the photograph of the happy couple merely served as a reminder that Anson
was gone. The old woman could only lament her thoughtlessness in neglecting
to put it away.

She knew that due to the physical distance between the Unified States and
the Entente Alliance, as well as the immense confusion at the scene of the
fighting, news wouldn’t arrive very quickly. But at some point, she must have let
her guard down. She was anxious for news of the war, but she never imagined
that Anson would be killed.

And that was why she still kept recalling the day the death notice arrived and
how stunned she had been.

A notice? For us?

It came on a tranquil, sunny day exactly like this one.

The old woman’s daughter had finally started to smile again, seeming to have
relaxed after returning to her hometown, while her granddaughter rushed
around the foreign land giddy with curiosity. The old woman watched over
them with a smile.

The bad news struck right as she was inviting the girls in for three o’clock tea.

Suddenly, a car flying the Entente Alliance flag pulled up, and an official from
the embassy climbed out. When her daughter went to greet the man in her
place, to spare her bad back, the old woman regretted that she didn’t speak up
and say, “Let me go. I’d like to talk with a visitor now and then, too.”

If she had, she could have even taken the envelope he offered with a strained
expression, his hands shaking, and hidden it away somewhere.

“Oh God! No!”

But instead, when she and Mary heard the screams and paused their tea
preparations to rush for the doorway, they saw her daughter crumpled on the
ground in tears and men in black whose faces said they couldn’t bear to stand
there any longer.

In retrospect, the old woman felt like a fool for blithely making tea at that
moment.

Solemnly silent visitors in black? They were basically dressed for mourning,
weren’t they?

The reason for their visit should have been obvious.

DEATH NOTICE.

She hadn’t even considered the possibility when she pulled the paper from
her daughter’s trembling hands, but the moment she read the single line
printed on the front, time froze.

Her daughter still hadn’t recovered from the shock.

Not only that, time is probably still frozen for her at exactly that moment.

After that, her daughter began listening obsessively to news broadcasts about
the war, answering both Mary’s encouragements and the old woman’s
consolations with the same hollow smile.

Tidying up the utensils in the kitchen, the old woman would think to herself.

How the war would surely end at some point. Apparently, from what she
heard in the news, the Empire was retreating. She wasn’t exactly sure what was
going on, but…everyone whispered that the war seemed like it would end soon,
so that’s what she wished for. All she could do was hope. If it’s going to end,
then I hope it ends soon.

Perhaps the reason her daughter was tuning in to the broadcasts with a
nearly religious devotion was that she hoped God would bring righteous
judgment down on the Empire for taking her husband away.

Of course, revenge would only be empty and sad. At her age, the old woman
knew that sorrows of the past could eventually be overcome. But for her

daughter and granddaughter, the shock was still too great, so until the pain
became dull and faded, she would endure it with them.

“All right, Mary, let’s make this apple pie.”

“Okay!”

MAY, UNIFIED YEAR 1925

Operations should be launched with a clear purpose and objective.

On that point, the General Staff praised Operation Schrecken und Ehrfurcht
(“Shock and Awe”) as a plan that embodied these ideals. Two major generals,
Zettour and Rudersdorf, had drafted it.

The intentions of their proposal were plain and unambiguous.

By conducting radical but straightforward attacks that directly targeted
enemy headquarters, it would be possible to knock out the opposing forces’
chain of command, ultimately leading to the collapse of the enemy’s lines.

That was it. One unit would be dispatched to complete one objective; it
possessed the simple logic of two plus two equals four.

The reasoning behind it was obvious. A decapitated army cannot wage war.

Even a student at the academy would be able to grasp the intent
immediately. After all, the strategy amounted to slicing off the enemy’s head—
neutralizing the command capabilities that were critical for a modern army.

However, the nature of the plan caused various staffers to raise serious
doubts from the very beginning.

Naturally, the headquarters were considered incredibly important. Any army
would establish their field command in friendly territory far beyond the reach of
their enemies.

Common sense dictated that the Republic’s headquarters on the Rhine front
would be heavily defended. This foregone conclusion was confirmed with a
reconnaissance in force at the cost of a great many lives.

Unless they could find a way past the enemy’s dense interception screen and
deal with any forces scrambled for defense, there was little hope of success.

The majority of the General Staff had taken that into account and judged that if
they were wholly prepared to dispassionately sustain losses in order to achieve
a breakthrough, they would lose an entire brigade of aerial mages in the
process.

So when the aim and execution of Operation Schrecken und Ehrfurcht were
revealed, many staffers thought that anyone who would give such orders had to
be crazy. There were even those who openly opposed the operation, claiming it
was a joke that would accomplish nothing but recklessly send soldiers to their
deaths.

Of course, none of the realists on staff objected to the operation’s intended
purpose. If it was possible to destroy the enemy chain of command by
penetrating their lines and storming their headquarters, it didn’t matter what
sacrifices needed to be made. Assuming a reasonable chance of success, any
number of casualties was acceptable.

Despite the appeal of undertaking bold ventures with no regard for the price,
the staffers rejected the proposal due to the slim chances involved. Wagering
their valuable troops on an operation with such a small probability of success
was an unthinkable outrage under ordinary circumstances.

If chances were good, then sure, some losses could be ignored. Did it matter
how high the returns would be if the likelihood of victory was impossibly low?
Was this the operation they were pinning the success of the breakthrough on?
If that was truly the case, every officer would have been forced to bitterly admit
that they were done for.

Deep down, most officers on the General Staff privately believed that if it
were possible to strike at the enemy headquarters directly, the Rhine front
wouldn’t have become a stalemate in the first place.

Such a meritless plan would normally be tossed in the waste bin and
forgotten…but this particular proposal was drafted and jointly signed by none
other than the generals Zettour and Rudersdorf.

At first, the staff were puzzled when they realized the two authorities on
large-scale maneuver warfare seemed to be proposing the operation as a
practical move. They reluctantly reviewed the document, and only upon an

intensive reading did it dawn on them that the absurd plan was worthy of
serious consideration.

In the end, loath as the other staffers were to admit it…they begrudgingly
acknowledged that the operation might be possible. It all depended on
committing the veteran 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion led by Major Tanya von
Degurechaff, whose alias was in the process of shifting from the elegant “White
Silver” to the more awe-striking and fearsome “Rusted Silver.” They would also
require supplemental acceleration devices that allowed the user to climb to
altitudes where interception was impossible and gave them the speed to outrun
any pursuers.

On paper, at least, the specs of the supplemental acceleration device,
combined with the unit’s accumulated achievements, made the proposal
attractive enough to warrant discussion.

But even with all those cards assembled, the planners still hesitated—Zettour
and Rudersdorf were suggesting, of all things, to dovetail Schrecken und
Ehrfurcht (“Shock and Awe”) with their next major plan, Operation Lock Pick.
Claiming that there was no hope of pulling off Operation Lock Pick without the
success of Operation Schrecken und Ehrfurcht invited particularly intense
debate.

It was no small dispute. After all, having made their wager on Operation Lock
Pick, the General Staff had already crossed the dangerous bridge of
withdrawing troops from the Rhine front, a move that would normally be
unthinkable. They were long past the Rubicon. It wasn’t easy for them to
maintain composure while listening to claims that their initial wager was now at
the mercy of this gamble of an operation.

A fountain of objections erupted internally, and the debates that raged both
in and out of conference rooms split the General Staff right in half. Calling the
plan controversial didn’t do it justice.

With officers grabbing one another by the lapels in fierce disagreement and
cursing their peers as stubborn fools, the state of affairs was wild enough that it
was more like a wrestling match than anything. It was plain to see how chaotic
the internal strife had grown after multiple officers were officially reported to

have “taken a tumble.”

But in the end, the General Staff decided that the fundamental aim of
attacking the enemy headquarters directly had a lot of promise. After all, even if
they didn’t manage to take it out completely, the attempt alone would still
cause a great deal of confusion.

It might be a quixotic one-way charge, but the Republican Army would need
to seriously take into account the threat of a capable aerial mage unit
conducting a raid ever after, and that was huge.

They could expect this result even if the attack failed. In other words, if the
Imperial Army carried out just a single decapitation strike, the Republicans
would have to be constantly on guard against another. They would have to
station more of their precious few forces in the rear to guard the critical Rhine
front headquarters.

It was a reasonable interpretation of the situation. Even in the sense of
“trying is better than not,” making a real effort didn’t seem like a poor idea,
either. At the very least, they would tie up additional enemy troops in the rear.

Some of the officers even added another thought in the back of their minds:
Major von Degurechaff might actually be able to wring out even better results.

That said, no one could deny it was a risky operation. At worst, they would be
sending their elite troops on a futile mission and could lose every single one. Of
course, even if the attack force was wiped out, the threat would remain. It was
a steep price to pay for a threat, though.

On top of that, the unit they planned to send in was the irreplaceable pet
project that the General Staff kept close at hand—a quick response unit with a
wealth of combat experience.

The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion had been initially formed as an experiment,
but it was currently serving as the General Staff’s proverbial workhorse,
consistently surpassing expectations on every battlefield. Its less flashy but
nevertheless vital contributions in the field of testing new tactics and assessing
new weapons couldn’t be ignored, either.

This wasn’t the sort of unit that could be duplicated overnight, and yet it was

precisely thanks to their elite capabilities that anyone expected them to
succeed. After struggling with that contradiction, the General Staff eventually
settled on dispatching a company. That took into account both the amount of
troops they were comfortable deploying and the number of troops necessary
for success.

Once the size of the force was locked down, the Empire’s intricate war
machine became fully operational.

Twelve members of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion were promptly selected
and transported to a launch base in the rear as the strike force that would
utilize the supplemental acceleration device (code name V-1) to carry out the
attack behind enemy lines.

The participants received technical briefings from the engineers as well as
intelligence on enemy territory. All preparations for their combat mission were
completed without delay.

However, the test run Major von Degurechaff petitioned for was denied due
to secrecy concerns. It was an unavoidable decision, since the whole point of
the operation was a sneak attack; from a counterespionage viewpoint, the
General Staff couldn’t allow it.

Of course, making an attempt with no practice was risky. The General Staff
Office received many misgivings and doubts over this decision. Since the
chances of success depended entirely on whether or not their unit could use
the element of surprise, the mission’s clandestine nature was emphasized to
the point of suppressing any dissent. Ultimately, even Major von Degurechaff
had to acknowledge the need for counterintelligence, though she did so
reluctantly.

The team carried out piloting exercises in the hangar, but there were no
actual launches with any equipment. In exchange, maintenance on the
supplemental acceleration devices was performed with extra care at Major von
Degurechaff’s request.

The operation’s itinerary was itemized in rigid detail, eventually settling into a
plan to at least deal a blow to the enemy chain of command and temporarily
take their communications down. Immediately following the raid on enemy

headquarters, the strike force would head north where a friendly submarine or
ship would retrieve them.

The General Staff debate ended with all participants more or less in
agreement. The V-1 unit was given notice, and X-Day arrived on May 25.

“You can still see the shocking results today.” (from the Commonwealth
Army’s War History Compilation Division’s History of the Rhine Front Volume 3)

MAY 25, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, IMPERIAL ARMY SECRET V-1 LAUNCH BASE

Major Tanya von Degurechaff stands resolutely on the runway at the airfield,
watching the sun rise over the horizon with a gaze so unwholesome it could
send even dead fish scattering as she utters a stunned Guten Morgen in her
head.

The orders she received have instructed her to lead a select company in a
direct attack on enemy headquarters to cut off the head of their army. In other
words, decapitating their forces with a surgical strike.

As if the outrageous order itself isn’t depressing enough, the method she
needs to use is even worse.

Penetrating the enemy’s defense by conventional means can’t be done.
Apparently, the brass understands that much. So for one reason or another,
they’ve decided their only option is to adopt a radical approach, and what they
came up with is a guided missile. The problem is that the guidance system is
done on board and by hand.

To put it plainly, they’re telling her to become a human rocket and charge in.
If Tanya didn’t have a reputation to worry about, she would be cradling her
head right about now and shouting, How did this happen?!

Logically, Tanya understands that the operation she’s about to carry out is not
just a reckless gamble. There’s no doubt that a reasonable chance of success
exists. Once the plan was laid out in detail, the strategic practicality became
clear.

The law of progress demands revolutionary advances fostered through
vigilant skepticism of common sense as a potential for bias and consistent

challenges to the paradigm. Given that, Tanya understands that from a military
perspective, her moodiness could be considered irrational.

But from another rational viewpoint, waging war in the first place is a
tremendous waste. Of course, there’s no denying that the virtually meaningless
exhaustion of every resource should be kept to a minimum. In a conflict, cutting
costs wherever possible is necessary, logical.

All the data indicates that preservation measures must be taken. The
numbers also suggest that it’s necessary to secure an alternative source of
supply to make up for inevitable losses. Unless the Empire seizes the Republic’s
assets in the terms for peace or something, Tanya’s nation will collapse under
the weight of its ever-increasing war expenditures. It’s plain to see that the
brass intends to wring reparations from the Republic.

In a debate, it’s reasonable to employ statistical data to back up common
sense or outwit it. Tanya can’t deny that on moral or emotional grounds.

Of course, statistics lie. But they’re the best kind of lies.

Statistically, no one expects someone with a savings account and life
insurance to be a suicide bomber. If anything, a banker would actually like to
maintain a long relationship with such a customer. Which is precisely why a
practical, cunning terrorist could potentially duck surveillance by opening a
savings account and purchasing life insurance.

In other words, anything can be good depending on how you use it.

Given all this, Tanya is fully aware how foolish it is to moodily declare, That’s
impossible or It can’t be done. She is more than willing to undergo a healthy
dose of introspection about her personal conclusions before disagreeing with
others.

Nevertheless, she finds herself repeating the same unsolvable question to
herself as she gazes with the eyes of a dead fish at the gigantic object in front of
her: How did this happen?

What mad scientist had the ability to convince the army to approve of such an
insane idea?

“A company will be launched via human-guided missiles, code name V-1.”

You’d have to be possessed to rationalize a plan like this to the point where
Zettour and Rudersdorf would approve… It must have been him. Most Imperial
Army engineers are constantly off in their own worlds, but Schugel is something
else entirely.

Go to hell, Schugel, you piece of shit! Tanya feels like screaming when she
recalls the man.

I should have killed him during those activation tests with a stray formula or a
computation orb “accident.” Even if he is a psychologically contaminated, pitiful
puppet of Being X—or rather, because of that—someone should have killed him
sooner, back when he still retained some human dignity.

The reason why I—or rather, why Tanya—gets carried away by her emotions
and won’t rest until she’s shot Schugel to death any number of times in her
mind is simple.

She’s the commander of a battalion on the verge of falling apart due to the
numerous casualties sustained in the course of rearguard duty, but the moment
the unit finally made it back to a friendly base in the rear, they received a new
operation along with newly developed equipment for it. She was so excited to
see what kind of hospitality would be offered to them upon their return, but
instead, events went in the exact opposite direction that she was hoping for,
and worst of all, now they’re being sent to a dangerous battlefield inside a
sketchy weapon.

Major Tanya von Degurechaff knows herself well enough to realize she isn’t
the type to enjoy blasting off in a giant rocket.

Frankly, she’s sick and tired of dangerous missions. And that’s only natural,
after being forced to carry out operation after ludicrous operation to help offset
the risks simply because the plans are “theoretically possible.”

As Heinrich’s principles state, any accident that is liable to happen, will.
There’s no telling when one of these dangerous missions will end in a horrific
mishap, and I don’t want to keep going till I find out. No, I wouldn’t mind being
praised for my outstanding achievements and upgrading from my Silver Wings
Assault Badge to a Silver Wings Assault Badge with Oak Leaves. Actually, I have
been recommended for the Platinum Cross with Golden Swords, although

informally, so at the very least, I can’t deny that the risks are properly
recognized.

Therein lies Tanya’s agonizing internal conflict. A person of the modern world
cannot forsake their duties without cause when they are held in such high
esteem and receive medals for their contributions.

To do so would be a betrayal of contract and trust—the very things that make
me who I am. Betraying your own dignity is essentially a form of suicide.

In a situation where an emergency evacuation is out of the question, Tanya’s
only practical choice is to loyally follow orders.

“I have to do it. If I have to do it, then I have to succeed.” Standing on the
runway glaring in the direction of the Republic, Tanya repeats those words like
it’s her duty.

She is so wrapped up in her own world that she doesn’t notice someone has
walked up next to her until they start speaking.

Unaware of the intense stare coming from nearby, she repeats herself,
mustering her will and fighting spirit. “I have to do it. I just have to do it. I can’t
mess up this mission.”

I’m going to live and hammer the righteousness of the market economy into
that piece of trash Being X. Then I’ll laugh as I shatter every last idol I can get my
hands on. No matter what happens, I can’t die before that.

“…Major von Degurechaff, sorry to interrupt you, but do you have a
moment?”

Her conditioned reflexes clear all other thoughts from Tanya’s head when she
notices the voice.

“Ah, excuse me. Of course, Colonel von Lergen. What is it?”

Suddenly realizing she hasn’t greeted him properly, Tanya takes a step back
and extends her hand to the brim of her cap in a picture-perfect salute. As she
thinks about ways to smooth over the situation, the gears of her brain go into
overdrive, trying to remember if she has let something slip that she shouldn’t
have.

She only murmured two things on the runway. It’s probably too much to ask
for any eavesdroppers to think Tanya’s feeling very motivated, but there
shouldn’t be much problem with talking to herself about needing to carry out
her mission.

But that only means her muttering won’t be taken badly on its own… It dawns
on her in the next instant that, depending on the context, what she said could
have grave consequences.

“No, you—ahh, er, rather, for you…”

“Huh?”

At the moment, Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen seems a bit bizarrely lost for
words. This seems like the worst-case scenario. No matter how tightly the man
clings to optimism, he’s no fool.

One wrong move here and a report could be sent to the General Staff Office
claiming her ability to carry out the operation is in doubt, revealing her
motivation is lacking even if it doesn’t go as far as to say she’s disobeying
orders. Lergen is undoubtedly someone who could submit such a report.

What will happen if Colonel von Lergen reports that he’s skeptical about my
will to fight?

All the discretion and freedom Tanya currently enjoys is granted on General
von Zettour’s say-so. If it comes to light that someone feels lukewarm—never
mind outright critical—about a plan he and General von Rudersdorf put so
much effort into, who knows what might happen.

“It’s just rare to see you seeming so reluctant.” Choosing his words with a bit
of a wince on his face, he trains his gaze on Tanya and continues grumbling. “It’s
you we’re talking about, so there must be some reason for your hesitation.”

A vampire who’s just been stabbed through the heart with a stake would
probably feel like this.

“Ahh, I see… No, I was just wondering something.”

“Wondering something?”

Tanya steels herself as she prepares to conduct damage control in hopes of

minimizing the fallout. This is an obstacle that must be overcome no matter
what. Furthermore, to cover up her lack of fighting spirit, she promptly decides
to state how unfortunate it is that she can’t lead an even bigger offensive.

Having come to both conclusions in the blink of an eye, Tanya von
Degurechaff unhesitatingly furrows her brow to express regret. “Isn’t it
strange? All this gear and prep work…so much effort to maintain secrecy. The
army is putting an astonishing amount of work into every area of this operation.
That’s why I wonder…” Appealing to Lergen for an answer with a glance, she
asks, “Are we really carrying out this elaborately planned sneak attack for the
sole purpose of causing confusion at the enemy headquarters?”

Rails have been laid on the runway to launch the supplemental acceleration
devices. And resting on top of those tracks are the constructs themselves,
hooked up to a mind-numbing number of boosters while workers fill the fuel
tanks with an unbelievable amount of highly volatile liquid propellant.

Considering how much impact all this activity has on secrecy, Tanya can’t be
the only one who sensed a firm intention to go through with the operation by
the time the rails were laid out and the rockets began fueling.

Which is precisely why she points a finger and asserts that it seems like a
disproportionate amount of effort, even for hitting the enemy headquarters.

“I don’t believe it’s a mistake to assume that striking at the enemy
headquarters will require a great deal of advance preparation.”

Colonel von Lergen’s gruff response is what she expected. Tanya doesn’t
object to the necessity of extensive preparations.

“You’re correct, Colonel. But it almost feels as though…it should at least serve
as the opening salvo of a greater battle.”

Tanya suggests that they could pursue wider objectives while implying serious
doubts regarding the cost-effectiveness of the current plan. Of course, she
understands the technical reasons why it’s difficult to cancel a launch once the
rockets are filled with their highly volatile fuel. Nevertheless, she makes her
point in earnest.

“Hmm, so you mean the plan as it is now won’t accomplish much?”

“More that we’re missing out on a chance to do something bigger. I’m not
saying that attacking enemy headquarters will have no effect, but…”

Tanya casually evades the trap Colonel von Lergen set for her. Skepticism on
this point could be seen as an attempt to shirk her duties by calling the
effectiveness into question.

Yes, he must be testing her to see if she’s using a plausible excuse to cover up
the fact that she lacks the will to fight.

In response, Tanya boldly plays the unabashed patriot, highlighting that it
would be a waste of an opportunity. She suggests that the mission should be
paired with some other endeavor.

This strike is fundamentally different from hunting down a one-shot lighter
carrying a certain admiral on an innocent inspection tour. As long as the target
is immobile, we should be choosing the most advantageous timing.

“From my perspective, sir, it’s like doing all this careful prep just to shoot off a
couple fireworks. The cost performance is rather…”

But having said that much, Tanya gets a strange feeling and trails off. Yes, this
is very weird.

“Major?”

Momentarily pushing Colonel von Lergen’s questioning look out of her
thoughts, she ruminates on the word that flitted across her mind and confirms
the strange feeling.

The cost-effectiveness is suspiciously bad. Would they really invest so much to
achieve this single objective?

Is this the sort of operation General von Zettour would propose with his
coolheaded thoughts on attrition warfare? On top of that, the participation of
General von Rudersdorf is also odd. This is an unorthodox operation that relies
on cunning, so why is the bigwig maneuver warfare specialist from the General
Staff involved?

“Ah, but…causing chaos at enemy headquarters…leading to a larger battle?
No, they’d be put out of commission…”

That instant, multiple questions in Tanya’s mind connect and lead her to the
answer. Destroying the enemy headquarters would throw them into chaos. At
that point, even a modern army devolves into little more than a mob. That is
the General Staff’s true objective. If General von Rudersdorf capitalizes on the
confusion to make a move…he’ll be able to break from the current trench
warfare back into maneuver warfare.

A modern army, even when nestled in trenches, only exists thanks to its brain,
the headquarters. If you look at how weakened the Red Army was after that
idiot Stalin’s purge, you can see there’s no room for debate about what
happens to an army that has lost its command structure.

And one more thing.

I don’t know what it’s like for a leader like that jerk Stalin, who seemed to
think soldiers grew on trees, but in a normal nation under regular
circumstances, probably the only country that could continue fighting after
losing its regular army on the front is the American empire.

“…So it’s all to encircle and annihilate them. In other words, we’re trying to
lure the Republican Army in.”

Dare to allow the enemy to take a strategic location, then force a battle. It’s
the same art of war Bonaparte performed like a con man at Austerlitz. The Low
Lands certainly are a key location. They’re basically the Pratzen Heights.

It’s impossible to ignore something so tempting dangling right before your
eyes.

…Was the entire reorganization of the defensive lines done with the intention
of baiting the enemy?

If that’s the case…then this will be a mobile battle, but not just a mere
breakthrough. It’s a revolving door!

I’ve been wondering why they abandoned only the critical Low Land position
and didn’t continue reorganizing the rest of the line. Now it all makes sense.

“So…we’re the switch for the revolving door?”

Those words trigger something.

“Major! Where did you hear that?!”

His face changes color as he snaps at Tanya. The fierceness in his eyes makes
her smile in satisfaction as she thinks, Aha, I see.

“Oh, I just thought of it myself, but…from your reaction, I take it my
hypothesis isn’t far off?”

“…You really didn’t hear it from General von Zettour?”

“No, but I’ve had an odd feeling this whole time, almost like a small bone was
stuck in my throat.”

Tanya knew something was off the moment she heard that the large-scale
reorganization of the front was related to the situation with imperial supply
lines, but then her unit was ordered to serve as the rear guard. It’s not her fault
she didn’t have time to think more about it back then.

When the retreat went all according to plan, she felt incredibly relieved, so it
took a little while to realize what was really happening.

After puzzling over the retreat for a few days, the Republican Army quickly
proceeded to advance. Tanya heard from reconnaissance that the Republicans
were marching along in high spirits, ready to destroy the Empire, but they were
moving so slow that she was certain there would be plenty of time to
reorganize the lines.

Assembling everything she knew about the situation, she was sure that she
was missing something, though she couldn’t articulate why it felt so strange.

Before, she wondered if it was really necessary to fall back so far just to
reorganize. But now everything is clear. It was all preparation to swing the
revolving door around.

In that case, I see why the mission has been kept so thoroughly classified and
why a million arrangements have been made just for this one sortie. It’s like
we’re the fireworks at the revolving door announcement ceremony.

“…All right, Major von Degurechaff. You must understand how much the
General Staff is counting on this operation.”

“Yes, sir, Colonel. I am fully aware.”

We’re serving as the vanguard of the General Staff’s grand mobile operation
that’ll lay the groundwork for a massive encirclement. Of course, if we fail, the
army will pretend nothing is wrong and reorganize the defensive lines
accordingly. But seeing how far imperial lines have been pulled back, it’s clear
the higher-ups were extremely aware of how high the risks were when they
decided to make this move. I can tell we have to succeed, no matter the cost.

“There is no greater honor for my battalion than to carry the hopes of the
entire armed forces on our shoulders. Please leave everything to the 203rd
Aerial Mage Battalion’s select company. We will fulfill the General Staff’s
fervent wish with our martial prowess.” Tanya makes her declaration while
standing perfectly at attention with her head held high, the impeccable posture
a product of her training. “I swear we will annihilate them. As for the General
Staff, I humbly ask that they wait for our good news.”

“You haven’t changed one bit, Major von Degurechaff. All right, I wish you
success. May God protect you.”

Although Colonel von Lergen’s expression indicates he’s perplexed by the
somewhat philosophical vow, he manages to smile awkwardly and extend his
hand.

“May God protect the fatherland. Then again, as long as us soldiers are
around, maybe we can handle it ourselves instead.”

Tanya grasps the man’s hand and smiles fearlessly. Humans can handle God’s
work instead. Though Lergen said it in a spur of the moment, it felt wonderful
for her. She’s practically falling in love with the turn of phrase.

We’ll take God’s place.

“May God protect the fatherland. Then again, as long as us soldiers are
around, maybe we can handle it ourselves instead.”

What a great way to put it!

The only problem with it is…I’ll need to get rid of that damned Being X
somehow. But even so, the wise and proper first step, atheism, will be taken.

I will save the fatherland in God’s place. The enthusiasm that wells up inside
her from the boast feels amazing. They’re magic words that fill her with

optimism and the willpower to be so accomplished that the very existence of
God becomes unnecessary.

In theory, storming the enemy headquarters is a logical choice.

No, I would even venture to call it thoroughly rational. After all, committing
significant forces to defend an important base in the rear while allotting troops
to the front lines is an exceptional workload.

This goes without saying, but the fact that the Republican forces will have to
implement countermeasures for the future, even if we literally deal no damage
at all to their headquarters, means we can already expect the attack to have
considerable effect.

Any soldier who hears their headquarters has come under attack would
anticipate the coming trouble and bury their head in their hands. Nor has it
been rare in wars of any place or era for heavy bombers to harass the bunker
where the enemy commanders are holed up.

In this world, mages represent a unique branch of the military. They can serve
as infantry or airborne troops that possess mobility on par with helicopters.
Depending on how they’re deployed, they can be quite handy for penetrating
deep into enemy territory.

When we write a new page of history by displaying the quintessence of magic
fighting power, if it’s possible to put in a part about saving the fatherland in
God’s place, that would be the best publicity.

Tanya thinks to herself, I’m just taking these lemons and making lemonade, as
she tries to turn a crisis into an opportunity, foreseeing the great promotional
opportunity.

Granted, I’d be even happier to participate if this operation didn’t entail being
tied to a clump of explosives.

It’s important to spell this out… I’ve been selected to be a part of the strike
team that will insert into the field strapped to a V-1.

Even so, that was a day Major von Degurechaff felt exuberant after
successfully finding a clear purpose to work toward.

Everyone who was present that day would pass down a wondrous story—a
tale about how the Devil of the Rhine, Rusted Silver rushed toward the enemy
headquarters in the highest of spirits.

Her quick, concise pre-sortie speech would be gossiped about in whispers
long afterward. “Gentlemen, may the gods protect the fatherland, but only if we
soldiers are on paid vacation in Valhalla!” Then, in front of her subordinates
who howled with laughter, witnesses said she boasted, “We will save the
fatherland in God’s place! Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s!
Men, it is time for a war waged by humans. We go to win!”

But history tends to pass down only one side of a story: Immediately after
barking those words, she turned her back to everyone to climb nimbly up the
ladder to board her V-1. On her face was a disappointed look that screamed,
Why me?

Current altitude: 8,800 feet; speed: 991 knots.

The company made up of elites of the elite, selected from the 203rd, formally
known as the 203rd Aerial Interception Mage Battalion, smashes through the
sound barrier on their attack mission in three Schwärme.

For better or worse, the operation is smoothly under way with no mechanical
trouble.

It’s “under way,” but really we’re just being transported, grumbles Tanya in
her head. Though there are a few things they can adjust, the V-1s Tanya and her
company are riding are essentially rockets, not aircraft. There actually is a way
to change direction, but even that’s limited to a few millimeters, meaning it’s
only useful for slight course adjustments.

This makes piloting a V-1 extremely simple. After flipping the switch to turn
on the engine, all that’s left is to make minor corrections with the control stick.

There’s almost nothing the mages on board can do once they launch. In fact,
the only thing we have to do is maintain our protective films and defensive
shells. The stick is good for adjusting the angle of our approach and that’s about
it. If we need to perform emergency evasion for some reason, the only option
available is a special function that provides more acceleration.



Ultimately, we’re just being transported to the airspace above our destination
with fuel tanks. In a way, we’re like the early astronauts. A couple of people
who’re merely along for the ride.

Well, unlike the early astronauts, we can’t expect an enthusiastic reception
from bouquet-bearing colleagues upon a successful landing.

After all, we won’t be arriving back on Earth where a support team is
anxiously awaiting our return at the planned touchdown point but in a nest of
dear escargots overflowing with hostility.

If we smile and cheerfully greet the startled Françoisians with a Guten Tag,
we’re bound to get lead bullets in return.

Which is why Tanya’s unit visiting from the Empire will politely knock on the
door first.

The plan is to detach from the V-1s, full of hydrazine and boron additives,
then use them as door knockers to land the first blow.

Rocket shells traveling faster than sound will crash into their respective
targets. It goes without saying that they carry quite a lot of energy with them.
Our scientists have guaranteed that these are the best door knockers in all of
human history; they’ll jolt you awake no matter how deep your subterranean
bunker is.

I’m sure our visit will be very surprising, what with us knocking so hard, but
this is a gentlemanly two-part operation where our mage detachment will carry
out our attack afterward.

In other words, whoever thought up this plan is awfully wicked. That’s the
best praise anyone can give an officer on the General Staff.

But as one of the people strapped to a rocket filled with doom, I want to cry.
We don’t even need to take fire like a one-shot lighter—an external explosion
would be enough to do us in.

Well, this is the tragedy of war. We probably should cry. The fate awaiting
both those of us forced to attack and the people we’re hunting is to spill blood
from our mouths in a fight to the death. By now, everyone on the battlefield is a

victim—another tear-inducing tragedy of war. Despite being a soldier forced to
fight, Tanya von Degurechaff declares that peace is sacred.

It’s much better for soldiers to putter around idly in a peaceful world. If
soldiers are sweating and bleeding in earnest, it means the nation forgot to
either wear its diaper or keep a guard dog.

Though this situation is spinning out of control, Major Tanya von Degurechaff
sadly swallows her sighs and complaints as she reminds herself that she must
push forward with her duty. I’m currently a soldier, which means I must fulfill
my military obligations. And in these modern times, a well-disciplined unit is not
allowed to be late.

To console herself, Tanya muses, At least if history makes a note of this, it
should also mention atheism on the battlefield. This is a great chance for me to
carve my beliefs into the history books.

If there’s a chance to leave behind words that disparage God, then Tanya has
no choice but to perform some outrageous promotional stunts today.

After all, there’s no such thing as bad PR. Well, I guess the difference here is
that instead of message boards lighting up in a flame war, it’ll be organic matter
going up in literal flames. Even if the varieties of flames are different, they
achieve the same effect, so maybe I don’t have to worry about it too much.

Time for work. Tanya checks the time and reviews her plans.

No, there’s no time left to waste grumbling.

According to the schedule, it’s almost time to prep for the strike, so Tanya
switches gears and quickly confirms the steps she needs to take. Midcourse
speed is normal. The afterburner settings for the terminal phase of the flight
are also fine.

The empty fuel tank she was anxious might explode separates as it’s
supposed to.

With an eye on her navigation chart, Tanya gets a fairly accurate reading of
her current position—which is quite critical—using her instruments. She’s been
concerned about miscalculations or being blown off course by the wind, but her
approximate position is almost exactly as planned. Everything is within

acceptable tolerances.

“01 to all units. We’re now entering the final leg. Report in.”

Receiving responses that there are no problems from her company via
directional waves, Tanya suppresses a range of emotions and nods for the
moment. There’s a lot she wants to say, but at least the mechanics in charge of
V-1 maintenance did their jobs right. She’ll have to thank them for the way the
machines didn’t malfunction and suddenly come apart midflight.

Fearing the worst, she had secured enough tear-resistant, fireproof,
automatic parachutes designed for extreme conditions that she had used back
during her Elinium Arms days and outfitted the whole team. Fortune must be
smiling on us since we didn’t have to use them during the flight.

…No, destiny is something we humans grasp with our hands. It’s decidedly not
bestowed upon us by someone else’s grace. Luck isn’t really the right way to say
it. This is a favorable outcome humans created themselves through careful
maintenance and thorough confirmation.

“01 to all units. It’s time. Measure your distance and calculate your angle of
approach on the double.”

A world in which success blossoms by the hands and efforts of humans… That
is the ideal world. No matter how unproductive it is, praising humans for being
so wonderful requires no pretense.

“05 to 01. Target located.”

“09 to 01. Same. Target located.”

“Splendid. All units, confirm that strike preparations are complete.”

It’s rare for war—or anything, really—to go according to plan, but it’s far from
impossible. If precautions are carefully taken ahead of time, the environment is
forgiving, and inefficiency and recklessness are abhorred, then it can happen.

Isn’t that spectacular? Hooray for efficiency! That’s what I’m talking about.

“01 to all units. Transition into phase seven. I say again, transition into phase
seven.” Upon receiving confirmation from her men that preparations are
complete, Tanya shifts to the next stage.

Phase seven, the strike order.

The moment she gives the signal, the members of the company separate from
their V-1s and eject.

Due to the nature of the V-1’s propulsion originating from the engine in the
rear rather than a propeller out front, the mages are ejected forward before
beginning their free fall.

Simultaneously, almost like a fun bonus, the empty fuel tanks and passenger-
shielding elements begin to purge from the rocket; they’ll function as
camouflage.

Tanya and the other mages mingle with these jettisoned parts on their
descent. Performing the first HALO drop1 in recorded history is fairly risky
business.

For additional stealth, we’re challenging the limitations of HALO. Normally
you would open the parachutes around 980 feet, but we’re mages. We’ll fall at
the same speed as the rocket parts and decelerate right before two hundred
fifty. By hiding this way, we dramatically reduce our chances of being
discovered.

Still, that only means the probability of discovery is very low. The plan doesn’t
take our safety into account at all. It’s a choice based purely on tactical
necessity.

I won’t be satisfied until I get back and force the person who thought this up
to try it themselves.

“Men, may God protect you.”

She meant to wish her troops luck but ended up saying something she didn’t
like one bit. Well, damn it.

If I’m praying for the protection of that infuriating deity, I must be really
messed up in the head. Tanya’s forced to lament this as another aspect of the
tragedy and brutality of war. These conflicts spell nothing good for sound
psyches.

And I wish so, so dearly for the creator of the Elinium Type 95, a particular

mad scientist, to go straight to hell. It was a mistake to forgive him simply
because he wasn’t in his right mind. Tanya’s so eager to see him go that she
wouldn’t mind doing it herself.

With all these thoughts in her mind, she adds another comment.

“Okay, gentlemen, let’s put God out of a job!”

Really, my ambition is to become my own salvation, Tanya thinks to herself as
she follows procedure to the letter and deploys her parachute at the prescribed
altitude.

For a brief instant, the deceleration g’s are absolutely unbearable. After that, I
feel only gratitude for having such a small body until I encounter the shock of
making landfall, which I just barely manage to distribute using the PLF
technique. I complete the landing thanks to a mage’s unique sturdiness and my
protective film.

The day where I employ the emergency landing technique drilled into me
during our computation orb aerial maneuvering course has finally come. What
the hell. Tanya sighs, blowing off steam by mentally punching the guy who came
up with this drop technique as she cuts herself free from her parachute.

Still, it seems that everyone in the unit has touched down without issue.

It makes me glad that we learned the five-point parachute landing fall
properly.

I did wonder what was wrong with instructors who would willingly shove a
child like me—even if only in appearance—out of a plane. But now I have to
thank them from the bottom of my heart. I should send a note when I get back.

Having thought that far, Tanya winces. The mission. I have to get through this
first. She reboots her mind.

Figuring it would be difficult to meet up upon landing, she instructed
everyone to operate in Rotten with whoever was close by. So who landed
around here? When Tanya scans the area, she sees Second Lieutenant
Serebryakov running toward her. Apparently, my adjutant has landed safely. Of
course, that’s what Tanya expected from her tough buddy; they’ve been
together since their time on the Rhine.

“09 to 01. Landing complete. No losses.”

“01, roger. Report on the results of the supplemental acceleration device
impacts.”

This is a good sign. Tanya smiles. Happily, the unit seems to have maintained
good order. First Lieutenant Weiss, who landed some distance away, promptly
reports in that he has made contact with the rest of the company. Though the
whole unit dropped separately, reorganization is going as smoothly as it
possibly could—something that only a highly trained group can pull off.

“The door knockers hit almost all bull’s-eyes. The only target we apparently
missed is the ammunition dump.”

But things can only go so smoothly.

To Tanya, a miss is a miss, but the warhead that was supposed to cause
security at the enemy headquarters to descend into chaos after detonating
their ammunition dump hasn’t done its job. That’s why Tanya doesn’t reprove
all the people who she can hear sucking their teeth over the radio. She only
sighs, thinking to herself, I told them to do at least one test run.

Sadly, there’s nothing else she can do. Or rather, she should probably be glad
that they were transported via a barely tested clump of explosives and achieved
most of the planned objectives so far without losing anyone.

That’s why she hesitates for a brief moment, trying to think of the best way to
proceed. The safe arrival of her eleven subordinates has been confirmed via a
secure channel.

That’s certainly good news, but since we failed to blow up the huge
storehouse suspected to be an ammunition dump, the enemy probably isn’t too
confused. Still, the defenders probably haven’t realized we’re preparing to
attack.

…In conclusion, we can still recover from this. Destroying that ammunition
dump is still plenty possible.

“We have no choice, then. I’ll work on taking out the ammunition dump. You
guys, blow away any defenders. We don’t have much time. Keep your eye on
the schedule!”

“09, roger! Can I take two platoons?”

“01, sure. 07, 12, come with me.”

“04 to 09. Form up in Schwarm.”

“02 to 01. We’re in Schwarm, too.”

Satisfied with the swift assembly of the platoons, yet irritated at the poor V-1
impact results, Tanya finds herself a bit frustrated.

Her unit is in fine shape. They infiltrated enemy territory with no casualties
and no organizational mishaps. It must be true that efficiency improves people’s
mood. Seeing a group that can capably carry out orders is a joy. The problem is
the high likelihood that we haven’t caused the chaos that this attack was
predicated on.

My company may be in good form, but we aren’t supposed to be going up
against an enemy command post with its secure defenses intact.

“Be ready for the assault. I’ll go after the ammo dump, but do everything else
according to the plan.”

“How should we divide up the objectives?”

“09, you take B and C. I’ll do A.”

Resigned to the high potential of taking terrible losses, Tanya chooses to carry
out the raids, as if she has any other choice.

According to the data they received beforehand, there are three possible
locations for the main Republican Army headquarters facilities. They were
counting on the chaos for a chance to identify their target properly—a V-1 was
supposed to have blown up the Republican Rhine Army Group’s ammunition
dump.

…Maybe I asked for too much.

Because the people who equipped us are engineers through and through,
they gave us flying objects that use leftover boron additive to light afterburners
and actually accelerate into the ground instead of coasting. Would there ever
be any manufacturing line problems if every industrial product functioned
exactly according to the manual?

Anyone who believes machines work completely according to design either
has no idea what it’s like in the field or is a designer in a lab who turns a blind
eye.

Certainly, according to its specs, the V-1 has a speed of one thousand knots
during its terminal phase. And in reality, Tanya can guarantee they were going
at least that fast. It was no lie when the engineers assured her that a direct hit
with that much kinetic energy would smash even a pillbox to smithereens.

But the engineers and designers forgot one critical thing. Yes, it’s physically
possible for a V-1 to obliterate anything that isn’t an underground shelter
fortified to paranoia levels in case of nuclear war. And given those things don’t
exist in this world yet, that means V-1s can destroy practically any hardened
position.

But Tanya thinks of another important condition. These results are only
possible if the V-1 lands a direct hit. Put another way, if it doesn’t score that hit,
it’s just throwing away energy.

…Wasting so much of that extreme destructive potential is so pointless it’s
distressing.

This issue must be due to the engineering crew’s disregard for cost-
effectiveness. Something that scatters like a cluster bomb would have worked
better. If I get to return to base, I’ll berate those asses in the Imperial Army
Technical Arsenal.

“No sign of enemy mana signals.”

“Not detecting any here, either.”

“Okay, let’s do this.”

Still, for now it’s time to focus on the operation. Our first move means
everything.

Success depends on us attacking before the enemy can respond. From the
lack of enemy signals, it seems they’re concentrating entirely on dealing with
the aftermath of the rockets.

…Well, that just makes sense.

Tanya almost feels for the enemy on that point. No one’s going to be thinking
about a direct assault. A sane person wouldn’t expect humans to be hitching a
ride on long-range shells or rockets.

In other words, in a sense, their first move will be somewhat easy. Sure, there
are probably guards around the headquarters. But if the numbers are even,
well, her subordinates are war crazy and have earned the title of veterans even
from an objective standpoint. They’ll be able to eliminate them.

“01 to all units. Watch the clock. Ten minutes in is the most we can hope to
get before Republican reinforcements show up.”

From the sounds we can catch and what else we can make of the situation,
the Republicans don’t seem to understand what’s going on at all. At least,
instead of scrambling, they’re prioritizing damage control. Well, they’re trying
to figure out how to handle their first time being attacked by long-range
rockets. They’re so busy puzzling over the impacts, they haven’t realized that
attackers have snuck in.

Otherwise, there’s no explanation for the lack of mana signals.

“03 to 01. I’ve succeeded in intercepting a signal. It’s uncoded.”

Tanya is sure of it when she hears the report from her man making
observations and tuning into the waves. The Republican Army really has no idea
we’re here.

“That’s a good sign. Push in with your mana signals suppressed. After the
attack on the headquarters, withdraw at full speed. We’ll shoot two rendezvous
beacons ten minutes after we leave.”

“Roger.”

Suppressing a sigh, she clutches her weapon and flies toward the enemy
headquarters with the others. If only her buddy Lieutenant Serebryakov had
messed up landing, Tanya could have loudly claimed she couldn’t abandon
someone who’d been under her since the Rhine Battle and pretend to search
for her while sending in the rest of the unit.

No, I should use my legitimate sabotage card (as a laborer) for later.

Now, the correct thing to do is be happy that my partner has been improving
so tangibly since the Rhine Battle or thereabouts. I should appreciate any
increase in human capital.

“All right, we’re going in.”

The second lieutenant following behind her looks so dependable when she
nods that Tanya’s conviction deepens that humans are great beings capable of
growth and development. Meanwhile, she suppresses her mana signal as much
as possible and charges.

Her subordinates follow behind her.

And what Tanya finds when she arrives is enemy soldiers caught utterly off
guard, gaping at them.

Maybe the problem is that it’s a rear base. The officers here clearly have no
idea how to get a handle on this kind of confusion. Not that I can blame them.

Tanya smiles as she sweeps them with the submachine gun she “found,”
thinking how user-friendly it is as she cleans up the Republican soldiers while
continuing her advance.

I feel slightly uneasy about the fact that many of them aren’t carrying
weapons, but in the end, assuming people at the base are combatants and
shooting them won’t be an international legal issue.

So I just have to calmly eliminate the enemy. The word enemy is so
convenient in that it requires no discussion, Tanya thinks as she looks over at her
subordinates, and her face inadvertently relaxes into a smile.

Promptly shooting in response to the four words It’s the enemy! Fire! is the
apex of military discipline. Operant conditioning is truly great for improving
effectiveness in combat.

“Lieutenant, how’s it look over there?”

“Clear! No problems.”

Upon receiving exactly the answer she wanted from Lieutenant Serebryakov,
who was keeping an eye on their back, Tanya grins with pleasure. Wonderful.

For a unit charging forward, finding no sign whatsoever of any of those

fearsome enemies who pursue from behind is unexpected good news. I’m
surprised, but it appears that the General Staff’s prediction that the Republican
Army headquarters would be heavily defended was way off.

“A failure of rationalists. They couldn’t believe the enemy would be that
stupid. Well, I should be careful myself.”

The rationalists who work on the General Staff consider the headquarters as
the cornerstone of the command structure and something that should be
guarded with one’s life no matter the cost. According to the Imperial Army’s
common sense, the Republican Rhine Army Group headquarters should be
defended like a fortress. Hence, why the generals Rudersdorf and Zettour
embarked on this sneak-attack plan that entails bending over backward to
launch aerial mages in V-1s.

And…Tanya had barged in here nervous about what might be waiting for
them, but now that she takes a look, it seems like an awfully slack rear base.

In other words, the Republicans assumed that this place wouldn’t become a
battlefield. From the looks of it…there aren’t very many experienced NCOs
around, either.

So we can be a bit bolder.

A civilian financial institution has better security than this. Managing badges
for entry and IC tags is actually quite effective, and the guards are more
prepared.

“What can I say…? I guess once in a while it’s not bad to be foolhardy.”

This is the kind of thing that makes me want to slump forward and grumble.
The eat-or-be-eaten determination found in civilian financial institution guards
is a natural result of necessity. In a way, everything works according to the
market principle.

In that sense, this is pretty much what happens with a conscript army. You
can’t very well expect guards to take their duties seriously when they’re clinging
to the wishful thought that enemies won’t appear in the rear.

“Major, look.”

“…Is it a trap? I don’t see how. Are we in the wrong place? Four seems like
awfully few to be guarding an ammo dump.”

When you encounter the unexpected, you inherently can’t predict what will
happen. My intention was to blow up the enemy ammunition dump to cause
chaos, but…there are only four guys in front of the warehouse that appears to
be the target. Not only that, but they look like MPs, and they’re smoking and
chatting without a care in the world.

What military policeman would smoke right in front of an ammunition dump?
It’s hard to imagine those sticklers for regulation breaking rules in the
disciplinarian heaven of the rear. In other words, circumstantial evidence
indicates that none of these buildings are anything remotely like an ammunition
dump. For Tanya’s platoon, it means they’ve been approaching the wrong
target. All pain, no gain.

“Remember, they could be using optical camouflage. Any irregularities in the
refraction ratio?”

“No. No suspicious signals, either… Those guys are probably it, Major.”

“…Intelligence sure did a bang-up job this time. Well, we have no choice,
Lieutenant. Let’s blow this thing to pieces and head back to make Weiss’s life
easier.”

“Understood, Major.” Lieutenant Serebryakov nods.

Tanya whispers that they’ll take it out in a single attack as she loads several
formula rounds into her submachine gun.

To be extra safe, I double-check before attacking, but the number of enemy
guards really is so low that it’s equal to our forces. And they’re regular old
infantry. The only notable thing is that there are awfully few of them.

I see, so it’s not the ammunition dump. This is just some storage facility. In
that sense, it’s easy to understand why no one’s coming after us. From the way
those four are equipped, they’re MPs. In other words, they’re standing guard
there purely as a formality.

“Is this really the Republican Rhine Army Group headquarters? It’s hard to
believe given how lax the security is.”

“Ahh, Major, umm, well…”

“If you have something to say, Lieutenant Serebryakov, go ahead and say it.
I’m not so narrow-minded that I would refuse to listen to a subordinate’s valid
advice.”

“Yes, Major. Perhaps…the enemy soldiers are only concentrated at the more
critical facilities…?”

Lieutenant Serebryakov meekly offers her suggestion. But it’s a point Tanya
can agree with. If the Republicans aren’t the least bit concerned if this place
gets approached, then surely they can’t understand why anyone would target
it. If I myself consider how many troops to station at an unimportant position
versus a critical one, the outcome is self-evident.

“That’s very possible, but what a pain.”

Tanya sighs as the weight of her near future presses down on her.

If there aren’t any enemy soldiers around here not because they’re
incompetent but because this area just isn’t very important…? It means that
Weiss’s unit could be up against far more resistance than expected.

In that case, we might be unable to achieve our objectives, endure endless
counterattacks, and miss our rendezvous with the submarine.

None of that is good.

“Okay, Lieutenant. All the more reason to hurry.”

It’s the worst possible future.

No, it’s a horrible outcome that we must do everything in our power to avoid.
I’m not interested in getting shot down over the sea or roaming around forever.

“We’ll eliminate them. Let’s go. We clean these guys up right quick and then
get back to help the others.”

So Major Tanya von Degurechaff makes up her mind.

As long as we’re here, we have to do what we came for.

What’s done is done, as they say. I meant to leave the dangerous act of
storming in for my subordinates and act as their support, but considering the

possibility of someone catching up to us from behind, maybe charging into the
tiger’s den isn’t so bad.

That said, I can’t ignore the objective right in front of me: This is the
designated point. Tanya’s only choice is to take rapid action.

Don’t laugh at my bureaucratic mind-set. Even if I blow this worthless facility
up, it’s not going to count as any sort of achievement. For that, I’d like to
unleash a treasury’s worth of curses on Intelligence for apparently seizing on
and passing along false information. At the moment, though, those gripes will
do me no good.

So there’s no point in talking about it now.

Since I have orders to destroy this place, it’ll be insubordination if I don’t.
Tanya would like nothing better than to scream, Eat shit! However, as a
disciplined cog of a modern nation, the notion of a right to refuse doesn’t exist
for her.

When it comes down to it, as long as Tanya has orders, it doesn’t matter what
else happens. She has to blast that nondescript concrete building to bits.

And if she has to eliminate these four measly guards to do it, she doesn’t feel
so much as a shred of guilt.

In the end, she may be the one shooting the gun, but what makes her open
fire is the state’s will. It’s the country’s power that wields the war machine.
Guns don’t shoot people. People shoot guns—and it’s the army, on the state’s
orders, that gives them those orders.

So pulling the trigger launches lead bullets from the barrel as it always does,
which leads to the utterly natural result of four fallen lumps of protein that
used to be alive.

“Clear!”

Nodding in response, Tanya follows the rest of the platoon to back them up as
they kick through the gate the MPs had been guarding, beginning their raid. Her
subordinates advance with superb skill. They go in vigilantly despite the
worthlessness of the target, which is reassuring.

Tanya covers their charge with her own. She’s prepared for a gunfight, and it
should be easy to maneuver with her submachine gun indoors.

She’s already attached to the gun she swiped from that Entente Alliance
officer, which she didn’t expect at all. It suits her body size better than her rifle,
although she’s not as keen to admit to that benefit.

Anyhow, Tanya and her crew should have been triumphant once they
stormed the place, but instead they’re struck by disappointment. Still confused,
and with nothing else to do, they shift their attention inside the building to
search for a target.

As expected, in a way, the building is vacant with almost no signs of use.

Or really just empty.

It seems like it’s being kept clean, but there’s next to nothing in it. When
Tanya sighs and says they should at least look through the records, she steps
into the area that seems to have been used as an office. All the memos stuck to
the wall and the calendar are relics from almost a year ago.

On top of that, the cabinets and safes that should be securely locked have
been left wide open. Tanya and her troops ransack the place, but everything
they find indicates that this location was abandoned. Apparently, the area was
closed off long ago because it was too far from the main base.

I suppose this is just a total failure on Intelligence’s part.

No, it’s not like I personally wanted the winning ticket, so I’m not sad there
aren’t any enemies here. I just thought that if we could blow up the
ammunition dump…we could wreak some havoc, so I’m a little bit disappointed.

“‘Better luck next time,’ then, huh? Oh, well. It’s a waste, but our orders are
to blow this place up. Let’s blast it.”

“Understood. Then just in case, I’ll stand guard.”

“Okay, Lieutenant Serebryakov. Let Lieutenant Weiss know that this one was
a dud, so it won’t do anything to help him. We’re getting this over with and
heading to the next objective.”

“Roger.”

“All right, I’ll secure our retreat… Hold up, a mana signal?!”

At that moment, Tanya’s guard could be described as out of focus—a rare
occurrence. The situation was entirely different from the harsh battle of fierce
resistance she had been expecting. Contrary to Tanya’s fears that the enemy
was using every available second to prepare themselves, taking care of the
guards was such a leisurely endeavor that it threw off her instincts. That was
why despite being keenly farseeing, she missed what was right under her nose.

At that moment, Tanya is caught off guard.

But conversely, that’s all that happens.

Suddenly the wall opens, someone leaps out, and once her brain processes
this information, she makes her call right there. It’s not “someone.” This is
enemy territory, so she doesn’t need any other information to judge the
situation.

The moment she identifies the person as an enemy, she internalizes the
information that an assailant has appeared. Then, the instant the enemy casts a
hostile look her way, she responds with nearly mechanical precision.

She slams interference formulas into her bullets and fires immediately. Her
submachine gun bangs out the results in a battle to subdue the room.

Luckily, the enemy mage who popped out, anticipating an advantage with the
element of surprise, is only putting up a weak protective film. That’s why
Tanya’s able to get past it with just 9 mm rounds and penetration formulas,
sinking multiple shots into the defenseless human’s flesh and easily rendering
her target helpless.

“Engage! Clear the room!”

The other three promptly take up their guns against the enemy mage who has
lurched forward and collapsed from the shock of the gunshots.

I’m a mage, too, so I know how they work. Mages are tougher than they look,
and it’s too optimistic to think you can down one with just a handful of bullets.

A live mage is like a hand grenade with the safety pin removed. Until they’ve
stopped breathing, you can’t relax. If they have even the tiniest chance, they’re

liable to blow themselves up as a last resort.

Sometimes mages die too late, but they can never die too early. And because
Tanya pounded that lesson into her subordinates, they swiftly deprive the
enemy mage of the chance to counterattack.

After finishing the sudden encounter battle, Tanya and her troops
immediately turn their barrels on the hidden door the mage appeared from and
set about inspecting it.

For a moment, the worry that more soldiers might pop out grates on her
nerves. But the space is so quiet all they can hear is their own slight movements
and the accompanying rustling of their gear, much less any footsteps. No sign of
any changes.

“…I didn’t expect it to be this deep!” Having kicked aside the corpse of the
enemy mage, her subordinate inspecting the door delivers the report with a
click of his tongue.

The door was concealed in an awfully clever way. It appears to lead
underground. And it seems like it goes quite far down.

“How deep is it?”

“Take a look, ma’am.”

“Let me see.”

Even Tanya gasps when she looks into the endless-seeming tunnel. A muzzle
light can’t even reach the bottom.

The stairway goes unusually deep. Even if this building suffered a direct hit in
a bombing or shelling, this basement would probably go unscathed. It might
even be able to withstand 280 mm railway gun shells. And from the way the
entrance is hidden, it seems like they really took a lot of care when constructing
it.

If that mage hadn’t burst through, we would never have known there was
anything here. Considering how elaborate the setup is, I can’t help but sense
the maniacal preparation unique to Intelligence agents. Perhaps Intelligence
was right, and my feeling that there was nothing here was wrong? Tanya revises

her mental evaluation of the team.

Of course, I still have no idea how they managed to mistake it as an
ammunition dump, so I still count it as their error overall. I don’t mean to say
Intelligence is completely incompetent, but they make enough mistakes that
you can’t count on their intel when you need to.

That said, the enemy has screwed up, but we have not.

This gives us a major advantage. It goes without saying that whether you get
to make the first move or not will affect the outcome in a big way. In any
competition—in the struggle for survival as well, not only war—the one who
messes up should get screwed. Surely that’s a law of nature.

“Maybe we’re onto something after all, Lieutenant.”

“But it doesn’t really seem like…” Lieutenant Serebryakov swallows what was
probably the words an ammunition dump, but she’s right.

Of course, Tanya has zero intention of declaring this place an ammunition
dump, herself, so she nods. “Yes, but it is something. Otherwise, why would
they have gone to the trouble of concealing it so well? Hey, how’s the
directional mic? Can you hear anything?”

“Sounds from multiple sources. Probably voices.”

Bingo! Tanya wants to shout with glee at how the enemy chalks up another
error for us, but she looks at her adjutant with a satisfied smirk that says, Do
you know what this means?

No matter who is down there, if they’re hidden like that, they must be making
secret plans. This is a juicy target.

She doesn’t have to say anything more for Lieutenant Serebryakov and the
others to understand.

“Can you make out the conversation?”

“It’s rather difficult. They’re pretty far away…and from the sound of the
echoes, it’s a bit of a labyrinth.”

Everyone is enthusiastically listening in, but unfortunately the sounds we’re
working so hard to pick up through the echoes contain too much noise to be a

clue.

…We can’t make out the words, but we can hear them.

And using the sounds in place of a sonar signal, we can tell they are quite far
down. Tanya quickly weighs the risks and decides it’s too dangerous to rush in.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, but there is no reason to bend over
backward at the moment for this particular gain.

Even if expecting a trap is overthinking it, on the off chance their enemies get
desperate and self-destruct, there’ll be nowhere to run. Tanya is sure it would
be a mistake to think the guys holed up in this basement are going to act
according to common sense.

I have to be prepared for the worst-case scenario: a group of mages resigned
to their deaths, unleashing huge formulas and wiping out my teammates and
me as well. Diving into a subterranean nest of enemy mages for a fight in an
enclosed space is a total nightmare.

But—there Tanya has a strange feeling—it can’t be. But when she triple-
checks, sure enough, she detects almost no mana signal. Of course, it’s possible
they’re just too far down to pick up, but…

“Lieutenant, I’m not getting any mana signals. Are you?”

“No, ma’am.”

She even has Lieutenant Serebryakov check, but the result is the same.

…Does this mean that they aren’t prepped for a rapid response? Or could it be
the place is packed with non-magic personnel only? Either way, it seems fine to
conclude that there aren’t any mages with defensive shells and protective films
up.

Which means…we can take it exceedingly easy. There’s even a move that is
usually ineffective on mages that would work great in this situation.

It’s something she learned in Norden. While it may be possible to neutralize
poison gas with one’s protective film, mages are still living things. Their talents
still don’t enable them to shield themselves against poison before realizing it’s
there.